The Huntress
by bookloves
Summary: End!verse AU, but Sam never said yes to Lucy. Dean Winchester brings Celeste, an Elf, to his camp after finding her unconscious on the forest floor. He knew something was off about her; never trusted her. Why now? As they fall in love, her past catches up with her. Will they survive together in the end? Dean/OC *On hiatus*
1. Captured

**A/N**:** Hey! Alright, so I had an idea for a fic in my head, and I needed to get it out, so this is it. Yup... Another... Supernatural... Fic. But it's Dean/OC, as told by summary. I don't believe this will be a series as I plan for my two others, but we shall see how it goes and how you like it.**

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_Still so far away  
__From where I belong  
But it's always darkest  
Before the dawn;  
So you can doubt  
And you can hate  
But I know__No matter what it takes_

Coming Home Part II by Skylar Grey

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The door slammed open. A man with short dirty-blond hair walked in and picked me up, telling me to be silent. I looked to see what his face looked like. The only problem with that was it was to dark for me to see.

"If you make a single sound, you'll die, you hear?" He said, his voice deep and a bit grainy. I nodded meekly. "Good."

I made no reply.

He set me down on my feet on the floor, ordering me to close my eyes and stay still. I did as I was told. He blindfolded and gagged me, binding my wrists. He told me to stand, forcing me to my feet, though I made no attempt to restrain. He slapped a hand against my back, grabbing the back of neck and guiding me to another area.

Another door opened, making a cold breeze graze my skin, giving me goose bumps on my bare arms and legs. My feet met a cold dirt floor, but I still walked forward, not wanting to get hurt by my captor again. He pushed me harshly to my knees, ripping off the blindfold.

I squinted in the moonlight, noticing I was outside in someone's camp.

Once I could see again, I noticed two men were stood in front of me, their arms behind their backs. The shorter man scowled upon seeing my appearance—I was covered in dirt and blood, and the dress I wore was torn and dirty. The taller man, though, took a step towards me, squatting down to put a finger under my chin. He tilted my face towards his.

"What is your name?" He asked quietly, his eyes showing sympathy, his face tense. I looked him in the eye, feeling fearful.

"Celeste." I said, staring the man in the eye. He stepped away, still looking at me intently. I realized why. "I'm not infected, if that's what you're thinking."

"How do we know that?" The blond man asked, stepping around so he was in my peripheral vision. I rolled my eyes.

"Because that man over there," I nodded my head towards the blond man, "checked over my body for any wounds. I have none, except from him. And I have not shown any symptoms. I would have by now if I was infected."

The blond man walked towards me, looking angry. The tallest man put an arm in front of him though, stopping him in his tracks.

"No, Dean. She's telling the truth." The man said. He moved his arm back, placing a hand on the shorter man's shoulder. "Castiel, can you go clean her up?"

The shortest man, Castiel apparently, picked me up and brought me to the stream with a pile of clean clothes and a towel. He sat down against a tree nearby, looking up at the stars as I stripped my clothes off. I stepped into the river, relaxing as the cold water splashed against my skin. I looked back at Castiel when only my head was visible.

"Why am I here?" I asked. He looked at me and stood up, walking over to the bank of the river, and sat back down. His gaze looked almost apologetic.

"You were out in the woods one night, and you got knocked out, I guess. Dean, the blond guy, brought you back here. He didn't know who you were. Said there was something... Different about you, but he didn't know what."

I looked at him reluctantly. "Perhaps that is because I am not human, sir." I murmured, dipping my head back to soak my hair. I brought my head back up, running my fingers through the long locks, my fingers scrubbing against the dirt and dried blood.

"What do you mean, you're not human?" He asked, guarded now. I looked up at him. "What the hell are you?"

"I'm an elf. Don't worry, I won't do you any harm. I just want..." I trailed off, unsure of what I actually wanted.

"Want what?" He prompted, tilting his head to the side. I swallowed some air, feeling exposed. Which, in a sense, I was.

"I just want to find my sister. That's all I wish for." I answered quietly, a tear sliding down my cheek. Castiel looked at me in confusion. "She went missing a few months ago. I snuck out a few weeks ago to go look for her. I hadn't before because I was not allowed to."

I held my hand out for the towel, and he handed it to me, not letting it go. "Is something wrong?" I asked. He just stared at me, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly agape. He still didn't let go.

"I've met you before, haven't I?" He asked softly, his eyebrows furrowing. I looked down at the towel again. I shook my head.

"I do not recognize you. I'm sorry if that creates any inconvenience..." I trailed off, thinking of what to say next. He shrugged.

"Nah, don't worry 'bout it. But, uh, I've gotta ask..." His voice turned to almost a whisper, and his hand moved to the long gash on my shoulder. His fingers trailed over it lightly; the soft touch made it sting. I winced, and he pulled his hand away, though his eyes kept staring at it. "Where'd you get that?"

I looked at it, then at his eyes. His were darting around the area of wounded skin, as if searching for a fingerprint. I looked at the gash and closed my eyes, letting out a soft sigh. "The man that carried me out—the blond one... He, uhm..."

I looked back at him, and he was even more confused. "He did this? Why?" I shook my head—I didn't know.

I stepped out of the river and wrapped the towel around my lithe body. I could tell he was looking me up and down, but I didn't say or do anything to stop him. He walked over to me, and I pulled my hair to one shoulder, looking at the ground. He gave me an angry expression, and roughly grabbed my forearm, yanking me forward and back to the two men, who stood in the same position as they had when I originally went to the river. The blond one was glaring at me, for what reason I didn't know. The taller one walked towards us as we came closer. His face still held a sympathetic appearance.

"How many injuries do you have?" He asked, glancing at my slashed shoulder and my bruised arms. I shrugged. "Cas, can you go patch her up?"

Castiel nodded, and pulled me towards what I assumed was his cabin. He pushed me in, telling me to sit on the bed. I did as I was told. I clutched my towel tighter. He walked over to the closet, and pulled out a small first aid box. He walked over to the bed, kneeling on the floor in front of me. He picked up a bottle of alcohol, and poured a relatively small amount along the gash, making it sting. I bit my bottom lip hard, tasting a little bit of metal when I released it. He glanced up at me for a moment, his face stoic, before tending to the wound again. He dabbed the liquid off, and placed a patch of gauze on it.

"It's not deep enough for stitches. Should be scarred over in a few weeks." He explained, standing up and walking over to a dresser against the wall. He took a pair of shorts and a shirt out, throwing them over to me. I caught them with my free hand, still holding the towel tightly. He smirked, noticing my scared appearance. He walked over towards me, holding a large hand out. I took it tentatively, tensing up when his fingers folded over my much smaller ones. I looked at our entwined hands in wonder—why was he doing this? He gently tugged me towards the bathroom, telling me to get dressed and come back out when I was ready.

As he closed the door, I couldn't help but let a tear slide down my cheek. I got into the clothes, noticing how they were clinging tightly to my body. The shorts didn't even hit my middle thigh, and the tank top stuck to my skin like a paste. I noticed a rubber band on the counter and I picked it up, pulling my light blonde hair into a neat bun. I walked out of the bathroom, uncomfortable with the revealing clothing, and to the main room of the cabin. Castiel awaited, his blue eyes staring into my golden ones. I looked at the ground, and he walked towards me, leaving a few inches of space between us.

"Why are you scared?" He asked softly, his hand coming to rest on the side of my face. His thumb brushed along my cheekbone, and I shivered; the skin he touched was tingling. I looked back up at him, my lips quivering.

"I... I feel... Naked and I... I've never been..." How was I supposed to tell him people have never acted towards me this way? His eyebrows furrowed. I looked at the ground again, ashamed. "I've never been touched like this. Been treated like this..."

He hesitated for a few minutes. "What do you mean?"

"People have always been hostile towards me. I was taught to be submissive, to not speak unless spoken to directly. I was taught that I could not ever intervene, and... I had to do whatever someone wanted, no matter what. I could not complain, I couldn't do what I wanted. It was always about someone else. The clothes I wore were usually very modest. I dressed like that so I wouldn't get..." I trailed off, not able to say that _one word_. I took a deep, shaky breath. "I was a slave in more than one way. I've been basically tortured mentally and physically and I..." I squeezed my eyes shut tightly.

I clenched my teeth, my jaw tightening as I forced my mouth to stay shut. My fists were balled at my sides, my muscles straining. I felt tears freely flowing down my cheeks as I forced myself to stay still. My body was shaking. I took labored breaths, trying to calm down—I was on the verge of another breakdown or anxiety attack.

I felt his arms slide under mine as they wrapped around my waist, gingerly pulling me towards him. His chin rested on my shoulder and I relaxed my arms. My hands went to his back now, one grabbing his hair and the other clutching the fabric of his shirt as I sobbed openly now. One hand stayed on the small of my back, the other lightly tracing circles in the middle of my spine. As he traced the shapes, I shivered involuntarily, and unconsciously pressed into him.

He squeezed slightly tighter though, both of his hands now flat on my back, his chin on the top of my head. I rested my forehead on his shoulder, catching my breath as I calmed myself down. He pulled away after a while, just slightly, a small smile playing on his lips.

"I'm going to go tell Dean you're in bed, alright? So go get some sleep, Celeste." He murmured in my ear, his voice hoarse. I nodded.

"Yes, sir." I acknowledged. He looked at me with a wider smile now.

"Don't call me sir, okay? It's Cas or Castiel." He winked at me and left the room, closing the door with a soft _click_. I walked over to the neat bed, reluctantly slipping under the covers.

I thought of the mysterious blond named Dean as I fell asleep.

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**A/N: First chapter; What do you think? Good or no? Sorry for being lazy on the other two stories, as I have a lot of personal problems going on right now in cool and in my family, as well as mentally and physically in my own body. I will try to post more regularly and more often once everything's sorted out. I am really sorry.**

**Please read and review. Follow and favorite!**

wiping the tears off my cheeks, a small smile playing on his lips.


	2. Explanation

**A/N: Here's for chapter two! Angst to come, enjoy! Phrases that are starred (*) will be translated at the bottom!**

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_Some saw the sun  
Some saw the smoke  
Some heard the gun  
Some bent the bow_

_Sometimes the wire must tense for the note_  
_Caught in a fire_  
_And say, oh, we're about to explode_

Atlas by Coldplay

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I sat in Dean's cabin the next day, sitting on a chair against the wall, with him pacing back and forth in the middle of the room. Every now and then he'd turn to face me with a glare that might as well have killed me. After a while, he finally stopped, and stomped over to me, slamming his hands on either side of me, one on the wall, the other on the table. His face must've been inches from mine. I looked down at my lap, my hair falling around my shoulders.

"Cas told me what you said last night." He said quietly, his voice sounding strained as if he were trying his hardest to contain the anger boiling inside him. I looked up at him for just a moment, then at the floor to the side of me. "You could've been lying."

I closed my eyes, turning my lips inwards. I opened my eyes, and looked at him. I opened my mouth, trying to say something as my eyes darted around his face, but no sound could come out. He arched an eyebrow, waiting for me to speak. After a few minutes I found my voice. "I'm not. It is not in my nature."

"How can you prove it?" He asked, his face a centimeter closer. I didn't act when I noticed, though. I noticed a cut on his cheek that was fairly new. It was still red from the bed, and it extended from his cheekbone to his jaw line. I lightly traced a finger on it, and glared at me in response. "The hell are you doing?"

I looked at him with a soft expression. "I can heal this." I murmured, leaving my fingertips on the scar and closing my eyes. "_Sana cutis, vulnera, quia iam abierunt._"*

I took my hand away, and he touched the area where the scar used to be, a shocked and confused look on his face. When he accepted the fact that I had just healed him, he grabbed the tops of my shoulders, squeezing them hard. I gasped from the pain, but he just had an angry look on his face, as he breathed heavily through clenched teeth.

"What the _hell_ are you?!" He yelled. I cowered as much as I could. I could feel the bruises on my shoulders starting to heal.

I—hi'm an... A-an Elf... P-please—don't hurt me..." I whimpered, biting down on my lip hard. He let go and forced himself away, sliding a hand down his face. He put his hands on his hips, and looked down at the ground. After a minute he looked over at the door and then at me, shaking his head slightly.

"How the hell did you do that?" He asked quietly.

"I used a simple spell. That's what I do. I swear—I practice Wicca, but I'm not evil. I promise. I'm a healer. I use spells and potions for the greater good. I mean you no harm, I swear." I explained, looking up at him. He was debating something in his head—it was obvious.

"Why didn't you do that to yourself when Cas patched you up?" He asked, gesturing a hand to the pad of gauze on my shoulder.

"I can not use my spells on myself." I said softly, fixing my gaze at the wall behind him. It was silent for a while.

"Cas told me, by the way." He said after a while, leaning against a wall. He crossed his arms. "'Bout what happened to you before you ran away."

I didn't say anything.

"Why? Why'd you run away?" He inquired, starting to walk back towards me. I looked down at my clasped hands on my lap.

"I was in a position where any sane being would escape from." I stated, not looking up. I took a shaky breath. "I had two living relatives left—my sister and my aunt. My sister went missing one night, and hadn't returned for a few months. I ran away a week ago to go search for her. Then you found me, sir."

"Alright, so pretty much your whole family's dead. That's not a reason to 'escape'. I mean, for your sister, I guess it makes sense, but other than that?" He said, throwing his hands up in defense. I looked at him with glassy eyes.

"That's not everything that happened, sir." I murmured, playing the garter on my thigh. I hated wearing it, but it was the only thing I had to carry my daggers.

"Then what else happened?" He demanded, his voice low. I looked up at him.

"I do not wish to go into detail. But I will say this: I was slave, in more than one way. I wish to speak no more on the subject." I said, afraid he'd react as my father would have. Instead he gave a nod, saying 'okay' and sitting down at the table, facing me. He said nothing, and studied my featured for what seemed like eternity, rarely blinking.

"Cas never told me your name, though." He said after a while. I looked up at him.

"My name is Celeste. I am of the Erynben Clan. Well, I was. Now I know not of where I belong."

"Neither do I. We'll figure something out." He said, and stood up. He threw me a forced smile and walked out of the cabin. I walked out a few minutes after him, pulling my hair into a ponytail. I walked towards my bow and arrows that leaned against the porch of Castiel's cabin, slinging the quiver over one of my shoulders. I bent down to tighten the laces of my combat boots, and looked around to make sure no one was watching. As soon as I knew the coast was clear, I ran into the forest.

I looked around for a clearing, hoping I could find a good amount of flowers for a crown. After searching and wandering for 30 minutes, I gave up, and sat up against a tree, not caring that the rough bark was digging into the skin of my back. I closed my eyes, bringing one knee up, leaving the other laid straight. I slipped a dagger out of the sheath in my garter, and balanced my forearm on my knee, twirling the weapon in my fingers.

_And the blood will dry / Underneath my nails / And the wind will rise up / To fill my sails_

My mind was spinning in circles, and I bent my head forward, only to forcefully snap it back to slam against the trunk of the tree. I let out a small gasp, biting down o my lip harshly. I ignored the throbbing in the back of my head. I closed my eyes, imagining my sister was sitting next to me, singing the lullabies I'd sing to her to fall asleep to.

I heard voices coming from the direction of the camp, and I quickly climbed up the tree, pulling myself up onto a branch that was about 20 feet above the ground. As I heard the voices grow closer, I looked around to notice that it was dark out. How long had I been outside?

"Cas, she probably just ran away. Wouldn't surprise me." Dean yelled, and I slipped my knife back into its sheath, pulling an arrow out instead, preparing to shoot at someone.

"No, she wouldn't've. The way she was? Dean, did you even talk to 'er?" Castiel argued, and not long after they came into view. I recognized Dean, Castiel, and the very tall man from the night before. But this time, there was a much shorter man—shorter than Castiel-who had a short beard. Unable to figure out who it was, I shot an arrow into his arm. The other three men looked to see where the arrow had come from, but Dean's gaze was the only one to meet mine.

"Cas, you're right. She wouldn't've run away." I heard him say.

"What do you mea—" Castiel cut himself off when he noticed and stared at the area Dean was staring at. "Oh."

I jumped from the branch, covering my head and rolling a little ways before standing up to look at the four men. The tallest one stared at me in shock; Dean was furious; Castiel looked slightly impressed but mostly taken aback. The man I shot was looking at me in fear. I looked at the tall one, giving him an expression that told him to step away from the stranger. He did so slowly, and I knelt down to his side. I pulled the arrow out, ignoring the stranger's cries of pain as I did so, and laid it on the ground. I put my hands on the entrance and exit wounds, saying the same phrase as I had earlier for Dean's wound.

Everyone but Dean looked shocked at how it was healed. I picked up the arrow and walked away from the group, staying silent.

No one went after me. I didn't look back.

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**A/N: Mm, hope you enjoyed. This was sort of a filler, as I wasn't quite sure what to do next.**

***Translation: ****Heal, thy skin, for now the wounds are gone**

**Please Review, favorite/follow! Thanks, darlings!**


	3. Intrusion

**A/N: Here is chapter 3!**

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_It's my own remorse_

_Help me to decide_

_Help me make the most of freedom_

_And of pleasure_

_Nothing lasts forever_

Everybody Wants to Rule The World by Lorde

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It had been a week since I had shot Chuck in the arm.

He was still pissed at me. And Dean had been angering me on multiple occasions—I don't know if it's been intentional or not—and I'd been finding it harder and harder to keep quiet each time.

I twirled a dagger between my fingers, the wood of the hilt feeling cool against my skin. I heard feet crunching the dead leaves on the ground, but I didn't look up. I did, though, when a pair of boots were in my line of vision. I stood up from my seat on the porch steps of Dean's cabin, facing the man that seemingly hated my soul. He held a dagger, the tip of the blade pointing at the ground.

"Alright, princess, I want to know why you're still here." Dean stated, crossing his arms against his chest, pursing his lips and squinting his eyes. I slid the dagger into the sheath in my garter. He took a few steps toward me. I took a few steps back, and tripped when my foot didn't move high enough to land on the top step. I fell backwards, landing on my bum, and put my hands out behind me to push my torso up and forwards, but stayed leaning my weight on my arms.

"I-I just... I have nowhere to go. I—my sister is probably too far away at this point to find her any time soon. I'll be killed if I return home. And I'll become infected if I leave this camp, considering how close we are to a hot spot." I replied, not moving from my position on the porch.

"Great. Well, if you're gonna stay long-term, you're gonna have to be able to defend yourself and fight. Got it?" I nodded. He gave a sharp nod in return. "Good."

"Dean?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah?" He asked. I looked at the leaves.

"I'm sorry." I looked back up at him, and he was confused.

"Why?" His eyebrows furrowed. He took a step closer, and this time I stood up. He walked onto the step that lay just before the porch. My breath hitched in my throat from the proximity.

"I-I, uhm, must've, uh, upset you... At some point—I think? You've seemed—uh, you've seemed angry a-at me." I stuttered, my voice lower than before. He smirked, looking at the ground for a minute before he looked back at me, the smile still playing on his lips.

"It was, uh, nothing you did. I'm not used to strangers walkin' 'round anymore, ya know? They're all freaking Croats. Demons... Frickin' Lucifer. Never an Elf." He said, his eyes fluttering to my lips for a split second. His eyes looked back at mine, his mouth slightly agape. I bit my lip, trying to keep the blood from rushing to my cheeks.

"We tend to stay out of the way. But some of your media, culture and such get mixed into our culture, and the result is quite nice. If I say so, myself." I smiled. He chuckled, looking off to the side for a moment. When he looked back at me, I could see his head tilt slightly. His free hand found my arm. His warm, soft touch made goosebumps appear on my cool skin. His hand slid from my arm to my neck, his thumb placed under my jaw bone.

I knew what was coming next. Even though I was used to something so_ simple_, it scared the hell out of me. I tensed, but my lips parted. I closed my eyes.

When his lips were on mine, I opened my eyes in surprise. Was he being careful? Why?

Why wasn't he being rough? Why wasn't he slamming me against the wall or the door? Why weren't his hands roaming freely, knowing I wasn't allowed to complain? Why wasn't he tearing my clothes off? What was he doing?

My mind raced, a million ideas running through my head as to why he was being like this. His other hand now held my waist—he must've put the dagger in a pocket or something. His lips were moving against mine, but it was still _soft_. I closed my eyes, hoping this would be over soon. This—something that was so _normal _and _typical—_was terrifying me. I knew how it went every time—it was never different.

When he pulled away, his hands left my body immediately, and he rubbed his face. When he looked back at me, he sucked his bottom lip in, biting on it. He put his hands on his hips, but his eyes never left mine. My eyes stayed wide, my mouth forming an 'o' shape. I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging my torso tightly. I stepped backwards, a hand reaching toward the knob of the door, and he realized why I was trying to get away from him.

He put a hand out towards me, taking a step, but stopped himself when I cringed slightly. My hand kept fumbling with the knob.

"Celeste..." His voice was gruff and low. "I didn't—I'm not going to hurt you." I still cringed as he slowly walked over, terrified.

"Dean—" I couldn't talk. My heart was pounding; blood was rushing to my head. He raised a hand towards my face, and I curled in on myself, my hands going behind my head, my arms covering my ears.

"Why are you so scared?" He asked. I looked back up at him, scared. He arched an eyebrow, wanting an answer, but I didn't give him one.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because... This isn't—this isn't what I'm used to. I'm not used to..." I trailed off, unable to describe what I _was _used to.

"What?"

"I'm not used to people treating me like you just did. I'm used to-to force, to coercion, to people being rough with me for no reason other than their own pleasure. I-I—"

"What the hell are you talking about?" He demanded, trying to keep his tone level and calm. I bit my lip to keep tears from falling down my face.

"Castiel told you everything I said, correct?" I asked, keeping my head hanging. I squeezed my eyes shut. I was trying so hard not to have an anxiety attack.

"Yeah. He said that you told him that you were 'a slave in more than one way'. But that doesn't make any..." He trailed off, his voice growing softer with each word. "Oh."

I still didn't look up at him.

"Celeste."

I didn't reply.

"Alright... If you want to talk, ever... Don't come to me, okay?" He said. This time I looked up at him as he started to walk towards me to get in his cabin. I moved out of the way, not saying a word. "This is why I avoid talking about any kind of... Emotional shit with anyone." He muttered, slamming the door to his cabin. I walked away, walking over to the lake that seemed about a hundred yards away.

I took a step into the cold water. I walked farther out into the lake until the water was up to my hips. At that point, I raised a hand to shoulder-level, making the water rise up. I swirled my hand in the air, and the water spun around me, shielding me from the outside world. I played with the water, not actually trying to get something useful done with it.

"Hey, Elf?" Castiel called, making me jump. The water fell around me, revealing him standing at the edge of the water. He looked at me with a confused expression. "D'you know what's up with Dean?"

I shook my head. I knew what was wrong with him, but I knew that if I told someone, I'd end up having flashbacks, nightmares and anxiety attacks again.

"M'kay. When ya do, can you lemme know?" He asked. I nodded. He smiled slightly, and walked away without bidding goodbye.

It didn't bother me though; I wanted to be left alone.

* * *

_2 Weeks Later; Dean's POV_

I regretted kissing her. Still. And it'd been, what, two weeks?

I didn't know why I did it. The look of terror on her face after I did, though... I might as well have killed her mom in front of her. In cold blood.

She still stayed in camp. There were times I wanted her to just leave so no one would be worried about her betraying us or some pathetic shit like that. People were suspicious about her. They thought she was some kind of freak. I mean, hell, even I thought she was.

She only spoke if you talked to her directly or asked her a question. She did whatever she was told to, no questions. Ever. She never told anyone of her past though. She'd only give the same information she gave Castiel.

She was learning to fight and defend herself really well. She was a little quick at learning, but that's probably because she already knew a few techniques. When I tried to teach her how to use a gun though... That would take months, at her rate.

There was something off about her, besides the oddities everyone else saw. I couldn't put my finger on it. If I had known though, I would have run away as fast as possible from her.

Because then we would've had been completely safe from any harm.

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**A/N: How was it? Please review, follow, and/or favorite!**


	4. Cas Knows

**A/N: Chapter 4! Enjoy!**

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_But tell me, did you sail across the sun?_

_Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded_

_And that Heaven is overrated?_

_Tell me, did you fall upon a shooting star?_

_One without a permanent scar?_

Drops of Jupiter by Train

* * *

Dean looked over at me with a blank expression. I put my book down, sighing. _Here we go again, _I thought.

"So, uh, Elf. You find another camp yet, or no?" He asked, his finger tracing the rim of his beer bottle. I shook my head.

"Well, no. I haven't. I don't think I'll be able to find one, either." I said softly. He nodded slowly.

"Well, sorry, but you can't stay here forever, princess." He retorted. I lowered my gaze to the floor.

"I wasn't planning on it." I assured him. He raised an eyebrow.

"How long were you planning, then?" He inquired. I looked at him.

"Originally, I was only going to stay those nights you forced me to stay, then I was going to leave. But I don't know where my sister is. I was hoping I could at least stay until I find my sister." I stated, nervously nipping at my lip. He nodded sharply.

"Well, hopefully that won't be very long, will it?" He asked. I glared at him.

"For her benefit or yours?" I asked. His eyes squinted and he sauntered over to me. I crossed my arms against my chest, staying right where I was.

"Ah, you think you're so adorable, don't you?" He demanded. "Guess what, bitch, you're not. So stop, alright?"

"Funny how you're telling me that when you're the one who ki—"

"We promised we wouldn't talk about it."

"You did. I didn't."

"You son of a bitch."

"Too bad I'm a girl and my mum wasn't a dog, huh?"

"Do you really have to be like this all the time?"

"Do you want me to?"

"No."

"Then, yes, I do."

He looked at me and opened his mouth, about to say something, a finger pointing at me. But he dropped his finger, closing his mouth and angrily walking out of the small cabin.

I laid back down on the bed and began to read the book. About 20 minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?"

"Can I come in?" I heard Castiel yell. I told him he could and he walked in. He looked at the book curiously.

"I'm reading _War And Peace_." I acknowledged. "It's a really good book."

"How far into it are you?"

"Um... About 50 pages left."

"When did you start reading it?"

I thought for a moment. "Yesterday morning."

"Holy shit."

I smiled softly. He walked over to me and sat next to me on the bed. He gave me a small smile, the corners of his lips just barely turning up.

I shook my head.

"Celeste?" He asked. I put the book back down.

"Yeah?"

"Why's Dean avoiding you?" His brows were furrowed, his gravelly voice rougher than usual. I shrugged.

"Everyone is. But you, really. Chuck's pissed at me... I mean, I did shoot him with an arrow for no god damn reason." I answered, shrugging. Dean wanted me to keep quiet about our little 'ordeal'.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "But he's been avoiding you more so than before. Surely you know why?" I shook my head again.

"Well... No, I don't. Even if I did..." I trailed off, looking down at the floor. I opened my mouth again, but closed it a minute later. No words would escape.

"If you did, you'd tell me?" He prompted. I shrugged.

"Well, that would depend on the situation. If Dean and I promised to keep quiet about it, I wouldn't tell you, would I? If I knew he wouldn't care—well, if I knew he wouldn't kill me if I said anything, to be more accurate—then, yes, I guess I'd tell you."

I looked back up at him. His eyes were still narrowed, though slightly less. He shook his head after a minute.

"Something wrong?" I asked. He shrugged. He glanced over at the door on the other side of the room.

"I might have a reason." He said a little but later, making me jump slightly. I looked at him with a confused expression.

"A reason for...?" I prompted.

"Why Dean's avoiding you." He clarified.

"What is it?"

"He pulled a Hans Solo on you." He said. I raised an eyebrow.

"Uh..."

"It's a reference."

"Yeah, I get that, Castiel, but still. How would he pull a Solo?"

"You think I didn't see you kiss him?"

_Damn._

"What are you talking about?" I asked shakily. He looked over at me, sort of mimicking Sam's infamous bitch face.

"A little while ago, you were sitting on the steps out there, and you two started talking when he walked over. Then you kissed him."

"Um, no, I didn't."

He stood up. He started walking towards the door. "Whatever."

"Bye, I guess?" I called, but he was already out the door. I huffed out a sigh. I laid down on my back, leaving my arm hanging off the bed. I looked up at the ceiling, my lips parting as I remembered the song my sister used to sing when she needed hope.

"_Carry on, my wayward son,"_ I sang softly, the lullaby's lyrics flowing through my head. "_There'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest; don't you cry no more..."_

_"Once I rose above the noise and confusion; just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion. I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high... Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man; though my mind could think I still was a mad man, I hear the voices when I'm dreaming... I can hear them say..."_

As I sang the song, memories of my younger sister ran through my mind. A tear ran down my cheek as I neared the end.

_"Carry on, you will always remember... Carry on, nothing equals the splendor. Now, your life's no longer empty; surely Heaven waits for you..."_

_"Carry on, my wayward son; there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest; don't you cry no more."_ A deep voice finished the song with an off-key tone. I looked at the door for the source of the sound to see Sam leaning against the wall near the door. "Nice voice."

I nodded meekly. "Thanks."

A corner of his mouth pulled up a bit, and he shrugged, walking towards me.

"When did you come in?" I asked, looking at the door for a moment in suspicion and curiosity.

"Ah, I heard someone singing, and was wondering who it was. Maybe about halfway through the song, then, I think?"

I nodded, accepting the answer.

"You getting any better with the gun, yet?" He asked, probably not knowing what to talk about. Or he was avoiding a question or something that he knew he needed to talk about. I shook my head. He nodded uncertainly.

I looked over at him. "Did you need something, or...?"

The odd and kind of hurt look he gave me made me realize how my prompt sounded. "Not that your presence bothers me! Don't worry! You just seem like you're avoiding something or..."

"Oh, yeah, right..."

"Something wrong?"

"No! No, I, uh, was just wondering..."

"Wondering what?"

"Are you immortal? Because I think you said a while ago that you're, what 300 years old?" He asked, slightly uncomfortable.

"More or less. I can't die because of old age. But I can die of sickness, wounds..."

"Do you at least age? Or no?"

"We develop like humans do, up until were are 21 years old. Then we stop aging. We still need to sleep, eat, drink water and such, though. And the situation with having kids is pretty much the same idea. Except females can only have kids until they're 200 years old. Males can only have kids until they're 100." I explained. He gave me that nod that says you want to look like you understand, but you really don't. "Yeah, it's confusing."

"Seems like it."

We were both quiet for a while.

"Is that all you wanted?" I asked. He nodded.

"Yeah. I just, uh... I have to go." He said, handing up to walk out. I closed my now-forgotten book and placed it on the table a few feet away. I walked out, trailing behind Sam.

* * *

**A/N: Who saw the season finale of Supernatural? I did. And I was surprised.**

**It's funny how the ending is the only way they could surprise us at this point. And, as terrified as I am, I'm actually really eager for season 10.**

***SPOILERS FROM HERE ON OUT ON THIS AN FOR SEASON 9 FINALE***

**Imagine if Sam just draws demon traps with Cas everywhere around the bunker. And, the Impala's FUCKING DEMON PROOFED! Imagine how passed off Dean will be! And I'm hoping his eyes won't constantly be black. (think Ruby and Meg). And Sam could just have a spray bottle of Holy Water and spray Dean with it when he's messing around. And he could say 'Christo' whenever Dean posses him off.**

**Dude, season 10 better be full of pranks for Dean. Lucifer and Adam and Michael better come back. Metatron better fucking die.**


End file.
